A Stitch In Time
by Concolor44
Summary: Jinx figures out how to handle things when life works out poorly.


A/N: This came to me as it is, shortly after finishing a pair of very angsty, end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it fanfics. I don't apologize for it, as such, but you should know beforehand that this is a significant departure from the general themes I work with.

As usual, I don't have any financial stake in the Teen Titans. That's DC's thing. They make the money. They 'own' Jinx and Raven, insofar as anyone may be said to own them. All I own is this idea and the way it is presented.

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_**A Stitch In Time**_

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

The low rhythm of the clock hanging on the wall in her apartment's kitchen finally made it through the brown haze around Jinx's mind.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

Slowly she lifted bloodshot eyes to the face of the timekeeping device, indifferently illuminated by the light from the stove hood. It was round, some twenty-five centimeters across, with a thin black plastic frame outlining a white face. Black numbers stood at the four quarterly positions. It currently read ten past midnight.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

She shifted slightly on her chair, its cheap vinyl covering sticking to the underside of her leg briefly before popping loose with a muted sucking sound. An unsteady hand shoved limp, damp hair off her forehead. The air conditioner had died earlier in the week, and late July in Jump City had forced her into the shortest of short-shorts.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

That clock never had kept very good time. They'd bought it on clearance from a big-box closeout store for six dollars. It ate AA batteries like popcorn, and had cost her at least twice its original price just to keep it running. _High-maintenance, _she thought,_ kinda like me._ Raven would occasionally refer to her that way. Staring at the clock while the second hand made its jerky way twice around the perimeter, she finally dropped her eyes back to the table, and to the objects that rested there, one of which was a gun.

Jinx didn't like guns. On principle, she considered them dangerous, nasty, loud, and way too random. Of course she knew how to use one. She knew how to use any number of firearms, and could field-clean and reassemble an AK47 with her eyes closed. It was part of the basic training one received in the H.I.V.E. That was also not the point. Guns, she reasoned, were for baselines. The bad guys used them in the commission of crimes, the police in their attempts to stop those crimes, the military for political crap, and the average citizen for personal protection. Considering her meta-human abilities, she didn't have any need for a gun.

Raven had felt the same way.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

A long, shuddering sob surprised her, and she clamped down again on that train of thought. _Concentrate on __now__. Concentrate on what you __need__ to do __now__._

She stared again at the pistol. It was a Glock 19, a very common, very standard sort of hand-held kinectic-energy delivery system that fired 9mm rounds. Factories turned out millions of them. You could buy ammunition for one at WalMart. Cheap.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

She and Raven had talked about guns more than once, after the pink-haired girl had switched sides and started putting herself in harm's way. Raven worried more for Jinx than for herself (_typical_) since her soul-self shields had no trouble stopping bullets. The ex-thief, Raven had pointed out more than once, was not bulletproof. Neither was Raven, when you thought about it.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

Jinx pushed her hair out of her face again, then had to squint and blink several times to allow her tears to rinse out the little bit of blood she'd wiped into her eye. When she could see again without it stinging, she turned her dull gaze down to her hand, examining the red wash that covered it. She also noticed the trail of crimson drops that led out of her kitchen, through their living area, and out her front door. That trail hadn't been an accident.

The faint wail of a siren floated in through her open window, and was soon joined by another. They began to get louder.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

They had an odd history, she and Raven. Their very first encounter had seen Jinx and her cohorts trying to kill the Titans. Over the next few years they'd crossed swords numerous times – usually resulting in Jinx getting her ass handed to her – while what started as battlefield insults slowly developed into sharp-witted banter. Each girl had come to look forward to their next fight. Even after Jinx succumbed, however briefly, to Kid Flash's insistent charms, she still sought out the half-demon if she wanted a real conversation. Looking back, the growth of their mutual affection, their burgeoning love, and their ultimate joining as a confirmed couple all seemed … inevitable.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

It struck her as funny – if anything could at this point – that the clock's muted, electronic rhythm was still audible through the rising blare of sirens. _I should do something about that._ But she decided to wait until they got to her building. In the meantime, she moved her attention to another of the objects on her table: a human heart.

It wasn't in the best of shape, but then she'd felt the need to squeeze it a few times while walking home. Still, it was yet recognizable. This talisman, this focus, this ... _souvenir_ ... was the source of the bloodstains on her hands …

_. . . . . . . The club was nearly full when they got there. It wasn't one of their usual hangouts, but Jinx knew of the band (for that matter she knew the drummer personally) and had insisted they go to see them. Raven admitted soon after their arrival that Jinx's intel was on the mark. Their melodies were catchy, the rhythms were easy to dance to, and the musicians exhibited a high degree of talent. They spent nearly an hour shimmying around each other, between trips to the bar._

_Maybe it was the press of the people that kept them from noticing the man, or at least paying him any attention. Jinx had sort of picked up on his presence at first, mainly because he was sitting and drinking alone, but she was soon too caught up in having fun with her girlfriend to care about a solitary loser. That was a mistake._

_They were standing near the bar, side by side, fingers entwined, trying to get the bartender's attention, when the shots rang out. He had walked up behind Raven, calmly pulled out a pistol, and shot her four times in the back._

_Jinx whipped around at the first shot, but she didn't see where it came from. She did, however, see the look of shock and pain on her lover's face. Panic welled up in her like lava, burning away everything else but the unbelievable thought that the center of her world had been shot. She grabbed Raven's arm and shouted something, but she couldn't recall later what it was._

_Then came the second report, and the third, almost simultaneously, and Raven stumbled forward and went to her knees. Jinx caught sight of the gun in her peripheral vision then, and turned toward the man with a scream. As he pulled the trigger the fourth time, he yelled, "Die, you pervert demon bitch!"_

_Jinx had a great deal of control over her hex blasts. She had practiced a lot since joining Raven; the other Titans, Starfire especially, had been most helpful in guiding her into a state where she could meter out her power in the exact amounts she desired, and to the exact effect. That all went out the window when the love of her life crumpled to the floor in a fountain of blood. Jinx unloaded a frightful blast at the man that blew his legs off at the knees and knocked him back some four or five meters. The other patrons, at the first sound of gunfire, had screamed and panicked and started running, so there was plenty of room behind the man for him to slide._

_Jinx cradled Raven's head, but it was already too late; her eyes glazed over and her life faded away without her saying another word._

_Jinx's grief transformed instantly into blinding rage. She stood and stalked over to the man who lay panting on the floor, pink sparks of hex energy still leaking off him. Taking careful aim, she used a "blade" of hex-force to carve his chest open beside his sternum; then she reached into the cavity, clasped the quivering muscle in her hand, twisted and yanked. She held it in front of his face, her stone-cold gaze boring into his, for the few seconds it took for him to die._

_She walked back over to Raven … no, to Raven's corpse. That cooling mass was not her love. That ravaged, riddled form was no longer the woman who completed her, who made life an unalloyed joy, who had pulled her from the depths and convinced her that she was valuable in her own right, who had shown her the heights love could reach._

_No. Raven was gone. So was her reason for living. She stumbled slowly toward the door, ignoring the horrified looks the other people were giving her, but then paused and gazed back at the man: his pistol lay near his right hand. She went over, picked it up and stuck it in her waistband, and left without another thought. She walked back to her apartment, his heart still in her hand. It wasn't all that far . . . . . . ._

She took the gun and used it to nudge the heart back and forth a few times. Such a fragile thing was life. This little bit of muscle gone, and life ceased. He had destroyed Raven's heart – and Jinx's in the bargain – so she had returned the favor.

The sirens rose to a crescendo a few floors below and then stopped. She could hear scraps of faint shouting … which meant they could hear her now.

… _tock … tock … tock … tock … tock …_

Checking the gun to make sure the magazine was properly loaded, she aimed at the clock and fired off four rounds. Just as the killer had done.

The shouts below increased and Jinx nodded to herself. Ejecting the magazine, she used a thumb to push out the bullets one by one until it was empty. There was one bullet in the chamber when she slammed the magazine back home. Wearily, she rose and trudged to her front door, opened it and stepped out into the hall.

Two of their neighbors had peeked into the hall to see what all the commotion was about, but when they spotted Jinx, liberally splattered with blood, a semi-automatic pistol dangling from one hand, they jerked back inside, slammed the doors, and locked them. Jinx allowed herself a tired smirk. _Haven't gotten a reaction like __**that**__ in a few years._ She looked down the hallway. Both the elevator and the stairs lay down at that end, so the SWAT team would be coming up there. She ambled down that way and waited.

Less than a minute later the stairwell door eased open and two men in full riot gear made their appearance. They saw her instantly and brought their weapons to bear. "Drop your weapon and place your hands on your head!"

She nodded in approval. They preferred the M1-A. That would make this encounter short and very, very final.

"No, I don't think I will."

"Drop your weapon or we will shoot."

"You might as well. I'm just killing time." Checking the pistol once more, she then stared at the nearer of the two, grinned, planted her feet, whipped the gun up, and ricocheted one off the top of his helmet.

Automatic fire filled the hallway …

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A/N: So. Did you think she was going to make it out of there alive? Or did you realize that suicide-by-cop was her plan all along?

I wish to thank everyone who has reviewed. I believe I have answered each of you in PM, but if I missed anyone, please know how much your heartfelt responses mean to me. I am deeply touched.

I'm going to go work on something a LOT more upbeat now.


End file.
